


A Kiss For This

by Lakeylou



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakeylou/pseuds/Lakeylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie kisses Red three times. Three short chapters. Red&Liz on the run. Lizzington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do not own The Blacklist or the characters!

The first time Elizabeth Keen kisses Raymond Reddington is on a Tuesday morning.

Just below his left cheekbone. 

She wakes early, freezing, half-asleep and grumbling about how she refused to take more blankets to bed. 

"I’ll be fine," she said. "I don’t feel the cold at night."

Now admitting that yes, she was indeed wrong and she does in fact feel the cold, she attempts to burrow down further in the bed. The morning sun is rising slowly and while the drapes across the windows are dark and block out most of the early light, she hadn’t pulled them properly. 

As she shuffles down in her Arctic cocoon, hunting for warmth, she notices a heavy weight settle on her chilled feet. Taking a peek, her chin jutting out, she sees on the end of her bed three folded blankets. One on top of the other. 

"Oh."

Had Red sneaked in during the night and placed them there? Despite her telling him they would not be needed? At this moment she really couldn’t care less. She is on the verge of shivering and Red coming in to her room while she was dead to the world should not be bothersome. But once she reaches down, pulls the blankets up the bed, stretches them out and layers them over herself, she thinks more of it.

It was quite kind of him. 

And she would have to thank him.

She had learned to appreciate Red's helpfulness politely, despite his sometimes misguided attempts to protect her (the times she's sure she would be better off without). Those times, Tom for instance, she stands firm. It can never happen again. Red doesn't even think about her forgiveness. He would not allow such a thing to happen. Nevertheless, keeping her warm is something different entirely. It's sweet. Gentle. Teddy bear Red trying to keep Lizzie warm at night.

She was already blissfully warm.

Hopefully she was a peaceful sleeper. She didn’t sleep with her mouth hanging open did she? Or snore. Tom had never mentioned her snoring, or he did once, but then later on said he was kidding. Confusing twisted man. She’ll never know. 

She slept on Red's shoulder once. Though that was in and out sleep. Very restless. Very upsetting. Red himself had other worries than to watch her sleep. 

But now, five months later, she's a little wary of Red seeing her sleep. 

He better not think of teasing her.

'Oh, Lizzie, you should have seen you! Dribbling down your pillow, tongue sticking out, quite restless you were.'

She eyes her pillow quickly, searching for saliva stains. 

She should get up, she thinks.

But it’s so cold out and they have this place for three weeks and there's nothing on the agenda today. 

Then she hears footsteps, soft, gentle, trying-to-not-wake-Liz, footsteps.

“Red!”

If he’s seen her in bed once without her knowing, it really shouldn’t matter if he comes in a second time. 

The footsteps stop and she smiles and imagines him hesitating, or perhaps furrowing his eyebrows wondering if he's heard right.

“Red!” She calls again and she feels a tad young and kid-like because it makes her think of all those times she use to call Sam from bed early on a Sunday morning. She would be desperate to know what he had planned for them on such a miserable, rainy day. They usually baked.

Lizzie baked chocolate and berry muffins four days ago. Red was very impressed, but she didn't tell him it was Sam's favorite recipe and he hadn't asked where she had learned it either.

“Lizzie?”

Her smile widens and she rolls on her side to stare at the door.

“Come in.”

Another few seconds tick by and she’s about to reassure him again that he can enter, but the door handle finally turns and there’s Red’s head sticking through the small gap. 

Unsure Red is a wonderful Red to be around in the safety of a home. 

“Everything alright?” 

“Thank you for the blankets.” She says a little sheepishly.

He can barely see her, her small smile hidden and she looks like a princess under all those thick, velvety covers. 

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No.” 

And she doesn’t want to get up, but she has the sudden urge to pee. Quickly, before she can change her mind she slips out beneath the covers and her arms cross over her chest. She has no bra on and while her long-sleeved shirt is warm, it's also a little thin. 

“It’s so cold,” She says, walking toward him. “Why are you up?”

“I’m always up at this time,” Red reminds her then steps back to allow her through. "I'll start the fire downstairs." He looks genuinely concerned. 

She’s not even that close to him yet, but she can tell he’s already showered and shaved because he smells of soap and his eyelashes are damp and dark.

She's not sure what sparks her to kiss him. Maybe because his skin is smooth. But then stubble on Red is just, if not more, appealing. She does it though, kisses him. When she’s even closer and knows that the safety of the bathroom is just steps away. She's not usually a kiss-and-dash kind of girl, but somehow, before she even kisses him, she knows. She knows that she will run. That with Red everything is different and she's going to escape and hide until her cheeks have stopped blushing. 

She leans up on her tip-toes and presses her lips very quickly to his left cheek. It’s a dry, soft kiss, obviously meaning nothing. It just accompanies her verbal appreciation for the blankets. Nothing more, nothing less. 

But when it’s done and she’s back on the soles of her feet, it suddenly feels like much more than a 'thanks' kiss, so she gives him a quick smile which barely gives time for her dimples to show. Then she’s off into the bathroom. The door shutting and locking behind her. 

Wait, she thinks, she didn't even catch his reaction.

She sits on the edge of the bath, thinking, trying to remember what he looked like. Did his eyes widen? Did he blush? Did Red's cheeks turn pink?

Terrible, she decided. Terrible. She hadn't paid close enough attention. She kissed Red and remembers his soft pale cheek but nothing else. It was probably enough, and without thinking her tongue on its own accord, sticks out and licks her lips, which is weird she thinks because no one does that after an innocent peck on the cheek.

People give cheek kisses all the time. Entirely innocent. It just shows how comfortable she is with him now. But the real reason she kissed him was to say thank you. Thank you, Red, for the blankets, for the dinners and the fires and the smiles and comfort and for running away with me and keeping me safe.

It's not like she kissed him on the lips! Oh, she'd never do that.


	2. A Good Idea?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss number two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own The Blacklist. Thanks heaps for kudos and the comments! :)

The second time Elizabeth Keen kisses Raymond Reddington her name is Marissa King and they are in France.

She kisses the back of his left hand. 

They’ve been on the run for six months when it happens, and while Liz is comfortable globetrotting with Red, meeting his associates always makes her nervous. When Red mentioned they would be meeting a couple for dinner, Lizzie had declined. Telling him that she didn’t need to be present and she wasn’t particularly hungry for a five course meal. 

Red, however, would not take no for answer.

“Lizzie, I know you’re tired and I’d like nothing more to stay in with you-”

“So I don’t have to go?”

“But I’d appreciate it if you’d join us.” He continued. “Please.”

So she finds herself on the ground floor of their French hotel. She wasn't aware until last minute that they wouldn't even be stepping outside. But here she was, sitting close to Red in a glamorous dining room. Mosaic floors, crystal chandeliers, finely dressed waiters, and she was wearing jeans.

Thankfully, John and Adelaide the couple sitting opposite them didn’t blink twice when they arrived. At least Liz had chosen a deep red blouse and the boots with the slightly thicker heel.  
Red had turned up outside her hotel room just after six in the evening. He complimented her outfit, said she looked nice and promised her she would not regret deciding to join him. 

She should have known he’d wear a suit. 

John Holt was a friendly man, a similar age to Red, with a good head of graying hair. Adelaide, while clearly younger than John and dressed in a fitting blue dress, was just as smitten by her companion as he was with her. They were a cheerful couple. Adelaide was a bubbly, talkative woman and though it was nice to not struggle for conversation starters, Elizabeth found herself a little over-whelmed. 

She must admit that it was good to actually understand them. The last pair they met spoke very little English and both stared at Liz with goldfish eyes.

Lizzie sipped her wine.

Throughout the five course meal, where the meals were dainty enough to eat in three forkfuls, Lizzie watches Red as he begins to lose himself in conversation. He seems so at ease and Liz finds herself sitting there a little awkwardly. Red and his gestures and wild facial expressions are fascinating and suit the company opposite him. Lizzie, however polite and respectful, does not. Red notices though, of course he does, and she finds it very sweet that every story he tells is one he's shared with her. Something they've done together.

But she can't help but wonder whether John and Adelaide are surprised by Red’s wife, or date, or friend, or client, or daughter. She doesn't even know who she is tonight.

He hadn’t mentioned anything about a cover and she forgot to ask him. 

“More wine?” John asks her, and Liz looks down to see that her wine glass is empty.

“Please.” 

Perhaps it would loosen her tongue.

While waiting on the arrival of dessert, Liz tries to count how many glasses of wine she’s consumed. And soon she begins worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, forgetting about her red lipstick, because she thinks she’s had one for each course.

Four wines. 

Surely not. 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

Red’s breath tickles her cheek. He’s leaning in so close that if she turns to him, she'll accidentally kiss him.

The only problem with her answer, which is a quick and affirmative, ‘yes’ is that she’s feeling more than alright. Though slightly dizzy now, she’s feeling happy. Happy to be sitting next to Red and across from these kind people. The alcohol has warmed her insides and she's warmed up to this whole dinner.

“Would you like me to get you a water?”

Liz appreciates the offer and she’s about to accept because she doesn’t want to drink anymore. While she does feel good now, tomorrow will be a different story. Instead she needs the bathroom. The wine has gone straight to her bladder and she should probably freshen up anyway and reapply her lipstick.

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom.” She tells him quietly.

Red nods, standing from his chair and offering her a hand. 

She’s about to tell him no, she can walk to the bathroom herself, but then thinks better of it. Maybe he needs to tell her something important, so she takes the offered hand.

“If you’ll excuse us for just a moment.” Red says.

 

It turns out Red has no problems and he just feels the need to stretch his legs. Lizzie doesn’t believe him, though she doesn't call him out on it. The hand resting on her lower back and the other on her elbow, leading her along, gives him away.

He thinks she’s had too much to drink. 

And he's right. If he wasn't holding on to her she's afraid she would have swayed her way to the ladies room. 

She knows it’s her heated cheeks that gives her away.

“You don’t need to come in with me.” She tells him outside the restroom. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, Lizzie.”

Lizzie chuckles, except it comes out a little giggly and she inwardly cringes. “Obviously because that would be weird.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” He asks again, lowering his head to look at her properly.

Liz steps aside from the bathroom door and leans her back against the wall. A woman exits the bathroom and Lizzie eyes her and her flowing dress and damn Red for not telling her to go back and change. Lizzie has five beautiful dresses now and she’s only worn two of them. 

“I’m under-dressed.” She blurts out.

“You look lovely.”

“I’m wearing jeans.”

Red smiles, he’s amused, she thinks, and it makes her frown back at him because she’s being deadly serious. It's her fault though. Was she really expecting to meet some of Red’s extravagant friends and not have dinner in some extravagant restaurant? 

“I should change.”

“No,” he replies. “You don’t need to change.”

He takes a small step closer to reassure her and she’s still leaning against the wall. She feels slightly unsteady, and she should probably go to the bathroom and take a breather and maybe escape through the window.

“Lizzie?”

“What’s our cover?”

"Our cover?"

"Like last month with Anthony... I was the woman who took care of all your phone calls."

"I hadn't really thought about it." He replies, surprised at her question. "Is there a particular part you'd like to play, Lizzie?"

"No. I was just wondering."

Red licks his lips as he laughs, Lizzie likes his laugh, but then another woman exits the bathroom wearing a revealing, backless black dress. 

And then the same woman stands on the other side of the bathroom door, her back resting against the wall just as Lizzie's is. 

And Red doesn't even look, and he really should, look that is, because the woman is positively radiant. 

That's why Lizzie does it. She's looking at this woman and Red's not even bothered. Red's looking at Lizzie. So when Lizzie looks back to Red, and his eyes are soft and warm and inviting, she pushes herself off the wall and leans in to kiss him. 

"Lizzie." 

He warns quietly, and it's just in time because her lips are so close to his that she can smell the red wine on his breath and see his tongue dart out to moisten his lips.

Despite his warning and maybe his rejection, she stays close and glances up at him.

"Is this a bad idea?" 

"You tell me," he replies.

"I don't know," she whispers back and stares back down at his lips. It can't be a bad idea.

Red remains so focused on her. Lizzie misses the way his left eye twitches. But she does feel his large hands take both of hers and peel them off his chest. 

"I don't know either, Lizzie."

Since Red doesn't know and neither does she, Lizzie thinks it's best to retreat a little. Thank god her mind knows when to stop, even after four large wines. Later on she will probably feel a little embarrassed, examine why she wanted to kiss him in the first place. And then, much later on, she will work out whether Red saying he 'doesn't know' means he wants to kiss her, or he 'doesn't know' because he doesn't want to kiss her. Then after that she will think about why she cares in the first place. That's if she remembers to do any of this.

She gives him a shy smile and she watches as he raises her hand and presses his lips to the back of it. 

Then once he's given her hand a kiss, she lifts his hand and presses her lips to the back of his. He has fine hairs scattered there and she grins a little when she pulls back. There's a faint outline of red lipstick on his skin.

"I should go to the bathroom now." 

Lizzie finds the bathroom empty. Which is good because she needs to stand here, in the middle of the restroom, and take some deep breaths to calm herself. And as she's doing so, she almost curses out loud because she's kissed Red twice now. Two times and both time where does she end up? And what did Red look like? After she kissed his hand?

It was probably much to innocent to receive any kind of reaction anyway.

When she finally leaves the bathroom, Red is waiting for her. He suggests that they say their farewells and head up to their suites. Appreciating his idea immensely, Liz nods and catches the back of his hand when he fiddles with his cuff link. 

Red lipstick on red's skin makes her smile, but she knows tomorrow when she wakes she will be glad Red stopped her from attempting to kiss him.

Because kissing Red on the mouth is not something a clearly-thinking Lizzie would do.


	3. Been Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third kiss. The final chapter but not their last kiss ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own The Blacklist. Thank you again for the comment and kudos. :)

The third time Elizabeth Keen kisses Raymond Reddington she’s holding a plastic bag filled with groceries.

She kisses him on the corner of his mouth and he smells bittersweet.

She’s not angry when she kisses him, but she’s frustrated and fed-up and her hand hurts from the plastic ringing her fingers. They're walking back to their safe house when she stops on the sidewalk, outside number 32a on Rosewood Avenue. They're staying in number 52, a small town house on a quiet street and Lizzie feels quite at home here. She hasn’t mentioned it to Red, but back in DC, her motel, or just the city itself, doesn’t really feel like home anymore. After so many months away, so many places around the world, she doesn't have a home.

These past few weeks with Red have been smooth sailing. No choppy waters, no arguments, and her attempt to kiss him outside the woman's restroom had not been brought up in conversation. Of course she wanted to apologize for her behavior, she was going to, but Red barely allowed her the time to speak. Any silence immediately filled.

So Lizzie played along, acting oblivious and keeping the topic off John and Adelaide and that hotel altogether. It was almost as if the night never occurred. 

Almost.

Because what Red doesn't know is that Lizzie has been thinking. 

They’ve decided to shop for food and necessities in the late evening. Although they're safe here, the crowds are intense during the day and Liz gets a little paranoid. She knows they're fine, they're far, far away but she worked in law enforcement and looking over her shoulder is a habit that will never wear thin. Even when Red is standing meters behind her. He always waves, thinking she's just looking at him, so she smiles and waves back and lets him think that. The late night visits put her at ease; they can shop freely without any hassle and long queues. Red is so much more patient than her. The store they visit is just fifteen minutes from their temporary home, so they make a night of walking there every Thursday. Before they begin their shop and before Liz can pull out the shopping list from her jacket pocket, Red takes her by the elbow and leads her into the nearest coffee house. And then he proceeds to order her a drink before she's even had the chance to scan the menu.

On this particular night, a lemon, ginger and honey drink sits steaming in front of her.

“I may have wanted a coffee you know.” 

“You were coughing earlier.” He replies. “I thought it would help.”

She closes her mouth, deciding against arguing with him. It was true, she had been coughing earlier and her throat still stings with every swallow. Liz watches him blow on his own drink and she peers over to look inside his mug. 

The liquid is golden and there's a slice of lemon floating on the surface.

"It's very nice," he tells her.

You're very nice, she thinks.

As they stroll back to their safe house it’s a little after eight and the amber street lights provide just enough light to see. It's been raining off an on today, so Liz keeps close to Red, her shoulder bumping his every so often and they dodge any puddles. He's telling her about the time he built a tree hut and she's thrilled. Thirteen years old, he tells her, and still to date, it's the most magnificent thing he's ever built. Liz can just imagine a young, floppy haired Red building some extravagant, probably two-story tree hut.

He restored her a music box once.

"The first girl i took up there was Sally Higgens." Red muses. "She was two years older than me and I was head over heels in love."

"Really?"

"Until four days later, that is, when I threw a paint balloon at her." Red hums and Liz watches his lips droop downwards. It's as if he thinks the action was entirely innocent. "She was so mad. Like a raging bull, kicking at the dirt ready to catch me."

"I'm not surprised in the slightest that she was mad." Lizzie replies, cocking an eyebrow at him. "But i'm surprised you threw it at her."

Red seems to mull over her response for a bit and she's about to correct herself, tell him that he was thirteen and she shouldn't expect any thing less from a cheeky, green eyed kid, but he looks at her, eyes shining with humor, and he smiles.

"I'd never throw a paint balloon at you, Lizzie."

"That's good to know."

"Would you throw one at me?"

"I probably would."

Red laughs out loud at this and so she grins at him and she feels a little foolish at how good it feels. 

"Did she catch you?" Lizzie asks after a moment. "Sally?"

"Oh, no. I ran inside and hid behind my mother."

It's further down the road when Lizzie stops. There's a comfortable silence travelling with them and she's looking down at her boots and his shoes and she's wondering when he has the time to polish them. Red is always so well presented, but she's with him all the time and she's never seen him polish or iron anything. Does he do it all night long? He doesn't sleep, well he does but he's restless, sleeps for an hour or two at a time, he says. Lizzie never wakes before him. He's always drinking coffee or tea when she emerges from her bedroom. 

Very rarely does Red look sleep deprived though.

Lizzie stops then, not because of Sally Higgens, or because Red won't splash her with paint, but because Red is so ... together. Always. And she wants together. Red and her together. It’s a good idea, she thinks. He's been on her mind all the time, and he'll be on her mind for so much longer that it has to be a good idea. 

They've spent so much time together now, that she can't really imagine being with anyone else.

Red stops too, not because he thinks the same thing, but because Liz is rooted to the sidewalk. He turns on his heel and her eyes travel down his clothes. A dark navy coat over his suit jacket, a vest and a crisp white shirt and an undershirt. He has a million layers and she wants all of them.

“Everything alright?” He asks and his eyes drop to the bag in her grip. He's been wanting to carry it for her since they left the store.

“Uh, no, Red.” 

She can feel her hand burning. The plastic handle cutting off circulation and it's painful, but she doesn’t let it go. Instead, she purses her lips and rubs them together. She’s so pleased that she purchased lip balm tonight.

Red's watching and waiting for her to elaborate and his eyes are questioning, his head tilted to the side and subconsciously she tilts her head too.

“What is it?” He asks and he looks a bit worried now; she can see him swallowing.

“I’ve been thinking.”

Now she hesitant herself, but she's sober this time and a little under the weather and what better time to tell him than when she's sick and needs his comfort the most. 

“You’ve been thinking,” he says slowly and she nods and takes a step toward him. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot.” She tells him. “And I think that it’s a good idea.” 

Lizzie thinks that they could be the best idea she's ever had. But she doesn't want to overwhelm him, or scare herself by saying such a thing out loud.

“Lizzie…” He says evenly, placing both bags he’s carrying onto the concrete. From his tight jaw and the vein protruding up the left of his neck, she can tell he knows what she wants. He's trying to remain civil though, because then he says, “Shall we walk the next two hundred meters home … and then we can talk?”

“I don’t think we need to talk.”

“I think we do.” Red responds all seriously and she shakes her head at him. "We need to talk, Lizzie. At home. Somewhere private." 

Does he think she's going to make some sort of scene? Or maybe the FBI will finally come out guns blazing at them? On this street, right now, just as she's opening up to him, Ressler will arrest them? She wants to laugh or scoff and maybe even push him in the chest. There's no one out here, she thinks. The street is so quiet that she can hear her heart beat, and possibly that's because it's racing and she's so out of her comfort zone, but here on this street, she thinks, is the perfect place to not talk with Red, and just do.

But if Red wants to talk, she will.

“I like you.” She swallows and then frowns and her gaze flickers away from him. “Like, a lot.”

It’s funny, she thinks, that she’s staring at scraping paint on a white picket fence and she can still picture his face. He's shell-shocked and she knows what he’s thinking, and she knows what he’s going to say and she grips the bag tighter. 

“I don’t think I can do this Lizzie…” He winces at her and she blinks her eyes back to him. “Not with you.”

“So you could do this with another woman?”

“Let me take the bag from you and we can keep-”

Lizzie pulls her hand away before he has the chance to reach for it. She swings it behind her and hopes to god she didn’t just crack the pack of eggs they purchased. Red's taken back by her quick movement and probably by the whole four minutes of their conversation. Well, he wanted to talk, she thinks. And if he wants to tell her all the reasons why not them, then he can do it here.

“Red.” She breathes, exasperated because he's like a silent stone and he looks a bit angry. "I just literally stood here and told you that I have feelings for you. I want to walk with you back home, I do, but you need to try and give me something first."

"Lizzie."

“Tell me how you feel." She continues. "I know this is hard for you, I know okay, I get it. But please try to tell me how you feel. About me.” 

She wonders if she's panicking now. Her cheeks are hot and perhaps she has been wrong all along and maybe she should start backtracking her steps. She was so sure he felt something. She's been sure for months now. She still is, she tells herself. She's not going to give up easily and she will make it damn hard for him to let it go. 

“It’s all I want to know.” 

She has no idea what she expects from him. If she really pushes him, pesters and demands him for an answer, she’s not sure if she’ll succeed. But he's been so honest and forthcoming with her over the last few months that she craves more of it and more of him.

But his silence is unnerving. Then there's the sting in her eyes and she doesn't want to break out in tears. Perhaps walking home first would have been better. At least the bathroom with the lock could have saved her. Because now if he refuses to talk, or tells her no, she's wrong about his feelings, then they'll have an awkward walk home.

"... Just anything, Red." She says quietly, but still with a bit of bite because she can't let him know how quickly she's deflating.

“But out here, Lizzie?” 

It catches her off guard. It's almost a whine and Red never whines. Out here? Sure, it’s night time and it’s kind of dark and the moons not full or anything, but there’s no one else around, it’s just them. 

“What’s wrong with here?”

He looks around distastefully and she gives him an incredulous look. 

"What?" She asks again.

“There's chewing gum scattered all along the path here-“

"Oh." 

He's now pointing out the bits of gum stuck to the footpath and she smiles at him, nodding along. Infuriating Red, she just has to laugh. And while he's still going on she slots her two boots between his polished shoes and the movement stops him, but then he starts again.

"I'm afraid it's about to rain and the last-" 

"Uh huh." She nods, eyeing him carefully and watching his mouth move and he's expecting it, she knows he is, so she does it. 

She leans in to kiss him.

This time she doesn’t stop, doesn’t let him get another word out that could stop her. She presses her lips ever so lightly to the corner of his mouth. She’s not sure why she kisses there, but she's been thinking about it for a while now. 

It’s right where his lips always twitch and curve up into a brilliant smile. And he does, smile that is, as soon as she kisses him. She can smell the honey and lemon and as soothing as it was on her throat, it's just as soothing to everything else. 

“I think it’s nice here,” She says quietly, brushing her nose across the spot she just kissed. 

"It's nice here with you." Red responds automatically and his hand reaches behind her and he takes the bag full of groceries from her hand. He then drops it loud enough to definitely crack the eggs, but Liz doesn't think about it for too long because he strokes her sore hand with his thumb. It's hard to catch his eye when he's so intent on healing her hand. 

"It's not that sore." She tells him.

"You were holding that bag as if it was a lifeline, Lizzie." Red replies quietly, opening her palm. It really isn't that bad, just a bit pink and he's being way too protective, but it's nice all the same. 

"You should stop that, you know." She says.

"Stop what?"

"Caring for me."

"Why?" 

"Because it's making me fall for you more."

He looks up then and fixes her with a stare that would intimidate the hell out of her if she didn't know him. But since she knows him well, she smiles at him and it softens him and her smile only widens. 

Then, without warning, Red tugs on her other hand and she's still thinking about how open she's being with him, even when he's not reciprocating, that she follows along rather blindly. Red's holding the three bags in one hand, her hand in the other and he's walking with purpose, down the road and then up their driveway. Then once they're outside their little house and on the front porch, he finally drops the bags. Lizzie wants to tell him off because if any eggs had survived their last fall they were surely dead now.

"There were eggs in there," she says. "Six eggs and you've dropped that bag twice now. I wanted to make something. I was going to bake a cake and oh god, Red," she gasps, looking down and stepping back. "The milk. The milk has spilled! You've split the milk carton."

Red's too busy unlocking the door to listen, or he's ignoring her or something. She's about to crouch down and save the other groceries, but he helps her up, and with a gently push, gets her inside. The lights are on quickly, the doors shut and Lizzie's standing there thinking about what other food items were in the bag with the milk.

"My Camembert's gonna have milk all over it... " She mutters and then when she notices that Red's in front of her, and how close he's standing, she stops and glances down at his hands.

"What are you doing?"

"Unbuttoning your coat."

"Why?"

"Because we're home."

Liz stands their a little awkwardly, arms hanging loosely at her sides and she watches as his hands effortlessly work on each button.

"The groceries are still outside," She says hesitantly.

Red slides his hands under the collar and she helps him remove the sleeves from her arms. He's still quiet and she's just confused.

"Lizzie," He begins and he says it as if he's about to declare his undying love for her. But he just folds her coat over his arm and looks at her.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not good for you."

"I think you are."

"This could be an awful idea," he warns.

"And it could be brilliant."

Another light laugh escapes him and he's looks so unsure that she feels the need to reassure him, so she takes his hands and squeezes them lightly.

"I should tell you how I feel."

"Yes, Red."

And he does.

"I will never stop loving you, Lizzie."

And then he kisses her on the lips.


End file.
